


Until the Damage is Done

by CharryWotter



Series: as free as his hair [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Dave doesn't want to enlist in the war :(, F/M, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, M/M, POV Outsider, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Raymond is shocked by Klaus' cult, Slight Canon Divergence, slightly manipulative Ben, the story centers around Klaus but is told through
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25885279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharryWotter/pseuds/CharryWotter
Summary: Raymond wants to know what’s going on with the strange, powerful white man whose cult he keeps running into.Dave wants to unravel the mystery behind a new customer that catches his attention, flaunting an improper hippie style while carrying a look of profound grief on his face.Ben wants to help his brother cope in a new time period, but he’s starting to realize that some things just can't be fixed.Or - a look into Klaus’ time in the 1960s and the relationships he made along the way.(reading the first part is not necessary to understand the story)
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves/Jill, Klaus Hargreeves & David "Dave" Katz, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Raymond Chestnut & Klaus Hargreeves, Raymond Chestnut/Allison Hargreeves
Series: as free as his hair [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1797625
Comments: 29
Kudos: 348





	1. Are You Losing Your Mind

Living in Dallas in the year 1960, Raymond Chestnut had certainly watched many white men easily assume positions of power, but never had any of them looked quite so bedraggled in appearance as the one standing in front of him at the park.

Raymond had been taking an evening stroll when the man had caught his eye; or rather, the large crowd amassing in front of the man had caused his head to turn, and the oddity of the situation struck him as he took in the appearance of their leader.

The man definitely did not have the look of the preachers who usually drew crowds this size, and Raymond wondered why people appeared to be so enamored with him. His hair was short but clearly needed a trim, tousled strands curling over his forehead and down his neck. He was wearing an entirely improper outfit as well, with a loose women’s blouse and shockingly tight pants that looked like they had been made of leather. 

His followers, dressed in expensive, fancy outfits, definitely seemed more put-together than the man they had strangely chosen as their idol. 

What was most shocking of all, however, was that the crowd was made up of people of all races. There was not even a semblance of segregation; the people seemed content to mingle and share in their adoration of the hippie white man.

It was this fact most of all that prompted Raymond to step closer, and to listen to whatever might be occurring. It seemed likely that these people had been brainwashed, but it was also possible that Raymond could pick up ideas to finally start a civil rights movement like he’d been planning.

“Don’t hide yourself in regret,” the man at the center of the meadow was shouting out jubilantly, waving tattooed hands. “Just love yourself, and you’re set! I’m on the right track, baby...” 

He paused, and his followers seemed to hold their breath collectively.

Grinning, the man threw open his arms. “I was born this way!”

The crowd clapped exuberantly, smiling up at the man, and Raymond had to wonder how such a chaotic person could come up with truly powerful messages. He was an impressive public speaker.

“Thank you, everyone! We will convene spiritually and emotionally tomorrow, same time,” the man called, smile looking a little strained. “And remember, you were born this way!”

It took some time before the people all cleared off, some remaining to try to touch their leader’s shoulders or stroke his hair. Raymond noticed the man was decidedly tense from all of the attention, so he waited until the last of the people had dispersed before deciding to approach.

The man was turned away from him, muttering angrily to himself. “—why, did you have a better choice of song lyrics?” he was in the middle of saying, before hearing Raymond’s footsteps and abruptly whirling around, falling silent.

“I was wondering if we could talk,” Raymond said, prepared for potential disgust. It was possible that the man only allowed people of color to join his band of followers because they served him as subordinates, and Raymond wanted to avoid being unjustly insulted or even attacked.

Raymond tensed as the man groaned. 

Turning his head to the side, the man snapped, “See? I told you Queen Gaga was a good idea! Here’s another one, falling at my feet!” His voice was feathery and mocking. Looking back to Raymond, the man pasted a smile on his face. “Welcome to Destiny’s Children. I am Lord Klaus, prophet extraordinaire and spirit whisperer. Serve me for however long you wish.”

Raymond gaped, taken aback. It didn’t seem like this Klaus fellow was racist, but he was apparently completely unhinged.

Klaus crossed his arms. “I don’t have all day, you know. Feel free to kiss my feet, touch my hair, whatever, and then I’m out of here.”

Raymond composed himself. “I’m not here to join your group, and it seems I was mistaken in approaching you. Apologies, have a good day.” He started to stride away, hoping that would be the end of it and cursing himself for trying to start a conversation with a literal cult leader.

Unfortunately, as Raymond reached the sidewalk, the prophet caught up to him. “Whoah, whoah, whoah, slow down!” Klaus said. “I’m not crazy! I thought _you_ were crazy!”

Raymond stopped and raised an eyebrow at the panting man. “Excuse me?”

Klaus chuckled nervously. “No offense, of course! It’s just that lately, people have decided to fall all over me for no reason! I thought you were one of them.”

At the admission, Raymond found himself relaxing. Klaus may be eccentric, but it was starting to look like he was aware of the persona he was cultivating, to some degree. “I’m Raymond Chestnut. I’m working to start a successful movement against segregation in Dallas, and I was pleasantly surprised to come across such a diverse group.” He paused, noticing that Klaus’ smile had dropped. “Of course, I could be entirely mistaken, and I don’t mean to step out of bounds,” Raymond quickly added.

Klaus took a moment to speak, but his expression almost seemed to have shifted to one of sorrow, rather than the anger or entitlement Raymond was expecting. “Hey, that’s really good of you,” Klaus said finally. “I guess I forgot how things are here.” His eyes slid to look at nothing.

“Do you have any ideas on how to improve the situation?” Raymond asked, slightly intrigued. Not many white men supported equality, and even fewer would be willing to discuss desegregation with a black man.

Klaus nodded, curls bouncing on his forehead, before furrowing his brow. “Uhh, I mean, I don’t remember exactly what worked and what didn’t, but demonstrations…” He looked to the side again and smiled. “Yes, thank you, demonstrations! Sit-ins and all that jazz! For example, the Greensboro sit-in that apparently just happened is going to cause tons of dining places to desegregate by summer; trust me on that one!” Klaus grinned triumphantly before sobering up. “Take care of yourself, though. I know what hateful scumbags can be capable of.”

“Thank you,” Raymond responded, a little thrown by the turn of the conversation. “I appreciate the advice.”

“No problem, man!” Klaus said, snapping back into cheerfulness. “Good luck!” 

As Raymond watched Klaus retreat, he swore he heard the man mutter, “It doesn’t even count as changing the timeline, Ben! Why would you tell me facts if you don’t want me repeating them?”

Tolerant or not, the man was definitely crazy. 

…

By 1963, Raymond had put the encounter well out of his mind. 

Besides a moment of brief shock when he’d learned that the Greensboro protest indeed had produced the results the prophet had expected, Raymond didn’t waste time thinking about the insane white man and their random meeting that day in February. He was too busy fighting for change. 

Raymond still hadn’t been able to find a suitable teaching job in Dallas due to the color of his skin and the racism of his country, so he’d been channeling his anger and outrage into action. He’d already formed a decently-sized group of activists, and while they were still debating tactics during their weekly meetings, Raymond had started to seriously consider the merits of a sit-in of their own, especially with President Kennedy announcing his intentions to visit Dallas.

In equally positive news, around one year after Raymond had formed his group, a new face had started to attend the meetings, and she was the prettiest woman Raymond had ever seen. 

At first she hadn’t seemed to talk to anyone, but she’d paid attention to Raymond’s speeches with a fire in her eyes and passion on her face, and Raymond fell head over heels. 

It turned out her name was Allison, and she was one of the most optimistic people for civil rights action that Raymond had ever met. 

Her voice was rough and quiet when they first sat down and talked, but as the months passed, the strength of her voice grew along with her participation, and her devotion to the cause became invaluable. And not only was she persuasive, but Allison was sweet, kind, and incredibly intelligent. 

When they finally got married, it was the happiest day of Raymond’s life.

With all of this going on, it was understandable that Klaus had completely faded from his mind, up until the moment that they once again crossed paths.

Around the end of October, Raymond had taken a solo drive to visit a friend in San Francisco for the weekend, and after a wonderful time catching up, Raymond had been on his way back to Dallas when a faintly familiar group caught his eye.

There were many more people this time—the group of around fifty had swelled to what looked like almost three hundred, all wearing similar blue outfits and brandishing hand tattoos that matched the distinct ones on Klaus’ palms. 

Remembering Klaus’ accurate prediction two years before, Raymond felt compelled to park his car and speak to him once more. It was likely that the information about the sit-in had just been a lucky guess, especially since it had been fairly vague and a logical assumption, but something about Klaus didn’t sit right with Raymond. He just didn’t...belong, in some inexplicable way.

Stepping out of his car and pulling his coat tight against the wind, Raymond strode over to the group, curious to hear what Klaus was saying.

It was clear that Klaus had been busy in the past years. His hair was much longer, cascading in tangled ringlets down his back and paired with a ridiculously long beard tied up with beads, and he wore a long white and blue coat open to reveal two necklaces laying against his bare chest. 

The styling suited Klaus’ new energy well; gone were the amusement and nervous irritation, replaced with an odd mixture of what seemed to be confidence and weariness.

This time, Raymond felt no hesitation approaching the group, and he started to weave between the smiling faces, vaguely recognizing a few from the last encounter.

“—And the energies of the universe dictate that it is time for me to levitate!” Klaus exclaimed, and Raymond paused among the cult members to watch. 

Klaus’ followers held their tattooed hands up towards the sky almost in perfect unison, and scanning the crowd, Raymond couldn’t find anyone who appeared to be as skeptical as he was.

As expected, Klaus did not levitate and his feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, something that seemed to bother the prophet. “As I just said, I will now levitate!” Klaus snapped in annoyance, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “Let me levitate! Now, please! They’re waiting!”

Raymond had to stifle a chuckle. Despite Klaus’ irritation coming off as very natural, it was clear that this was some sort of staged con. And since Klaus had somehow gathered up hundreds of people who believed what he said, Raymond was intensely curious how the whole thing was going to play out.

Abruptly, Klaus waved his left hand violently to his side. It almost looked like he was smacking someone in the face, if not for the fact that no one was there. “And now I will levitate!” Klaus repeated, viciously triumphant.

“He’s amazing,” the man beside Raymond breathed, and Raymond couldn’t help but look to check that the man was indeed being sincere. 

Unfortunately, this caused Raymond to miss what happened next. The crowd suddenly let out gasps of shock and awe, and Raymond turned his gaze back in time to see that Klaus was laying in a heap on top of two of his followers, about ten feet from where he’d been standing originally.

The man beside Raymond fainted, and he had to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. It was painfully clear that Klaus had been physically thrown by somebody in the crowd. The real skill wasn’t levitation; it was subterfuge. One of the followers was probably working with the prophet.

Whatever the cause, the levitation had succeeded in providing the crowd with enough bewilderment that they had backed away from Klaus, allowing Raymond to easily step forward.

By the time he reached Klaus, the man was upright, brushing himself off angrily. “I didn’t say that you could throw me,” he muttered as he patted down his long hair. “It wasn’t a punch; it was barely even a slap! There was no reason to get so rough in response! Hey!”

Raymond didn’t see anyone close enough to be listening to Klaus, but the words confirmed his theory about the faked display. He filed the information away as possible insight, despite still not entirely understanding why he had decided to approach the cult leader in the first place.

“Excuse me; hello, Klaus,” Raymond said, and Klaus turned to face him.

Up close, the apparent strains of the previous years were evident on the prophet’s face. His skin was tanned, suggesting recent travel, and his eyes were tired despite the intensity and clarity of his gaze. It was surprising but pleasing for Raymond to note that crazy or not, at least Klaus didn’t seem to be on drugs like other hippies.

“Ray! Is that you? It’s been a long while, man!” Klaus exclaimed, sounding genuinely happy.

Surprised to be remembered, Raymond nodded. “I was shocked to see you here, and with such a large crowd. It’s impressive.”

A shadow passed over Klaus’ face. “Yep, that’s Destiny’s Children for you. They crave all of my attention, all of the time!” His voice was bitter, but then his eyes focused on something over Raymond’s shoulder, and his expression relaxed. “So, what did you think of my levitation?”

Raymond laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s the word I’d use to describe it. Looked to me like someone picked you up and threw you. There’s no shame in that, though. A man’s got to make a living somehow.”

Klaus startled Raymond by laughing with him, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure it did look like that, didn’t it? Except it was _supposed_ to be a _levitation!_ ” The last part was said with enough venom that Raymond had to resist the urge to step back, before Klaus toned down his intensity and sighed. “Okay, whatever, maybe I’m just in over my head. I’m not meant for this sort of life,” he admitted.

Raymond followed his gaze to the crowd of people who had decided to kneel and pray while Klaus was occupied. “They seem to disagree. You’re akin to a god, in their eyes.”

Klaus shook his head. “That’s exactly the problem. It seemed like a good idea at first, so I played along, and now…” He waved a hand. “Now they’ve become as oppressive as the g—” he cut himself off, before hastily finishing, “the others used to be.”

Deciding not to pry about the “others,” Raymond gently took Klaus by the arm, leading him further from the praying group so as not to be overheard. “Is that what this is all about? Freedom to do what you like?”

Klaus’ smile was wistful. “Everything is about freedom,” he breathed. “The teachings, the clothes, the hair...and I used to be so strict about that! But things are different now, I’m letting go, letting myself finally be free...”

Raymond stayed silent, letting Klaus sort through his thoughts. 

“I lost my brother.” Klaus’ voice was almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry to—” Raymond started, but Klaus cut him off.

“I lost my brother, but he didn’t lose me.” His voice was serious, desperate, growing in volume. “And I’ve tried, man, I’ve tried so hard to honor his memory, but there isn’t anything I can do when he disapproves of absolutely everything! I mean, I’ve been sober for three years; what more does he want? Keeping my hair short never really made him happy—but nothing ever does! I can’t bear holding onto him, I can’t stand reasoning with him, and I hate the way he still judges me!” 

Suddenly, Klaus jerked and fell onto his knees in the grass, glaring up at nothing. It looked almost like he had been pushed, but maybe his legs had just given out.

“Are you okay?” Raymond asked, extending a hand.

Klaus took it with an ice-cold grip, a thunderous expression on his face, and clambered to his feet. “This better not become a new habit,” he growled. “And what a way to prove my point! Mourning is overrated.”

Raymond could only stare. It felt like the meaning of Klaus’ speech had flown right over his head. The most he could glean was that Klaus was trying to work through the trauma of losing his brother, but Raymond had no idea how that connected to sobriety or pretending to levitate.

“So, where was I?” the prophet asked, composing himself. “Right, freedom. There’s only one reason that I should clean up my act, but I’m too late.”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that it can never be too late for change,” Raymond offered, still a little shocked that Klaus had shared so much with him. He’d never had such an in depth conversation with a powerful white man, but it was looking like Klaus faced some of the same emotional challenges he and his movement faced. Of course, Klaus didn’t have to worry about police brutality or societal degradation, but he still was a fellow human being struggling emotionally.

Klaus blinked at Raymond with a vulnerable, worried expression on his face. “You don’t understand. I loved and lost someone, and I know I have a second chance, but if I try to go back, things will never be the same. There’s nothing that I can do.”

It appeared that not only was Klaus struggling with grief from his late brother, but with sorrow from a broken romance. An image of Allison rose in Raymond’s mind along with a swell of love, and he pondered the way that he couldn’t picture a future without her. 

Raymond knew in his heart that no amount of fighting, secrets, or drama would be enough to shatter their relationship. They could work through anything, as long as it was together.

“Go to her,” Raymond suddenly found himself saying. “If your love was a genuine connection, she will listen, she will try to understand, and she will forgive you. But if you give up, you’ve lost before you’ve even begun.”

“You’re right, you’re absolutely right,” Klaus said, eyes shining. He gazed out across the kneeling figures and frowned. “I think it’s time to leave my cult.”


	2. When Will You Get Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Dave deserve happiness...
> 
> It doesn't quite work out that way.

Dave Katz was 18 years old, and he couldn’t stop worrying about his future.

By November in 1963, Dave had been working for his uncle Brian in Dallas at Glen Oaks Hardware Store for almost a year. He knew it was temporary; Brian had started to encourage him to enlist for Vietnam and who would Dave be to avoid fighting for his country when so many of his family members had also risked their lives? 

Even if Dave didn’t enlist, it was likely that he’d be drafted like many of his friends had been, and that would be much worse because he’d die anyway, but as a coward instead of a brave man.

And in the unlikely event that Dave wasn’t sent to war, what would he do instead? Brian had made it pretty clear that Dave wouldn’t be welcome to work at the store if he decided not to enlist, and there wasn’t any single viable profession that had caught Dave’s eye. In the face of living a life of dishonor and destitution, joining the army was really his only option.

He was tentatively planning to sign up on the day Kennedy arrived in Dallas as a display of patriotism, and until then, Dave was working at the store and trying to keep from counting down the days.

Hoping to distract himself from the ever-present thoughts of the war, Dave put his mind to the restocking of shelves that his uncle had asked him to do. It was an exceptionally slow day at the store, to the point that they’d only had a trickle of customers, and Dave couldn’t help but wish for a rush of people to take his mind off things.

With Kennedy about to arrive, it seemed like the whole town was holding its breath, and much fewer people than usual were looking to fix up their homes.

As Dave moved on from the hardware section to restock paintbrushes, a new customer entered the store, and though over the months he’d seen a wide variety of people come through the door, he couldn’t help but stare in shock.

The man was absolutely gigantic—tall and hulking, with biceps wider than Dave’s head—but he also sported the most bashful expression on his face. With each step he took, the floor creaked, and he held his torso and wide shoulders stiffly to avoid knocking into the shelves.

“Can I help you, sir?” Brian asked from behind the counter. He seemed as pleased and interested as Dave to have a customer, and he scanned the giant’s muscular figure with approval.

“Hi,” the man said, carefully stepping over. “I’m uhh...I’m looking for some paint?”

Realizing he was staring, Dave made a show of continuing to restock the paintbrushes, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching the interaction out of the corner of his eye. 

Dave was almost certain that once the giant was gone, Brian would have a few things to say about how Dave could be that strong if he put in the work, and Dave sighed at the thought. Until then, though, the customer would be extremely entertaining to watch, which would make it somewhat worth it.

“Paint? What color are you interested in?” Brian asked, pointing to their wide array.

The giant looked shocked, as though he hadn’t expected to have to make a decision. “Maybe...pink?” he finally said cautiously, reaching up a gloved finger to scratch at his face.

The stack of paintbrushes suddenly dropped from Dave’s arms, clattering to the floor loudly in the quiet store. He quickly gathered them up, heart racing and mind whirling. Dave had been working for his uncle long enough to know what colors were strictly for women only, and with a sinking feeling he realized that this interaction wasn’t going to end well.

Brian crossed his arms. “Excuse me?” He narrowed his eyes, and Dave could see that he was shocked that such a tall, muscular man might be so depraved. “What did you just say?”

The man didn’t seem to notice that the tone of the conversation had shifted. “Pink?” He offered again in his deep voice, before a worried expression crossed his face. “Why? Is there something wrong with it?”

“You seem to have caught on,” Brian snapped. “We don’t serve your kind here.”

Dave felt his stomach clench, even though he knew his uncle was trying to do the right thing.

“My kind?” The giant asked, looking genuinely confused. “Oh!” Relief was clear to see on his face as he laughed. “I’m not trying to be sexist by choosing pink! I just can’t remember what my sis—what my true love’s favorite color is, but I want to fix up my place before I see her! What color do you think women like instead?”

At the mention of a female, Brian’s face relaxed, and he smiled, uncrossing his arms. “Well, I had no idea you were shopping for a lady!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say so? I’d recommend this beautiful pure white that we just got in; reminds them of a pearl necklace! You’ll have one happy missus on your hands!”

Dave blinked and was surprised to find that he was holding the paintbrushes so hard that they were digging into his palms, leaving angry red marks. He loosened his grip and carefully cleared his mind. Everything had been sorted out. There was no problem.

The giant beamed. “Okay, I’ll do that! Allison’s going to be thrilled!”

Brian prepped the paint cans and handed them over happily. “And you’ve gotten our last ones, too. You tell your Allison that she’s real lucky.”

“Thank you! I can’t believe I’m seeing her again!” the man exclaimed, hurrying out of the store.

“It’s good to see that there are still real men in this town,” Brian told Dave when the customer was gone. “That could be you, after some basic training in the military. They’ll rough you right up, turn you into a man. And then you can settle down with a lady of your own.”

Dave quickly finished putting the last of the paintbrushes away and stood, willing his hands not to shake. “Sure,” he said, forcing himself to look his uncle in the eye. “Hey, would you like me to take over the counter duty? Since you’ve just sold the last of the white paint.”

Luckily, the encounter with the giant had put his uncle in a good mood, so Brian didn’t push to keep lecturing. “Good idea, David. I’ll go check on upcoming shipments.”

Relieved and trying to forget the flashes of outrage and anxiety that the encounter had stirred up in him, Dave turned to serve the new customers who had entered the store. The next fifteen minutes passed by relatively quickly as Dave rang people up, and the giant and his white paint had completely faded from his mind by the time the small stream of customers started to leave.

Joining the army was still in Dave’s thoughts, though, and he allowed himself to briefly stare off into space as he wondered if he was really cut out for it. But was there any use trying to avoid enlisting? Maybe it was just his fate to die in the war, and he should accept the reality of the situation, do the right thing…

“David?” Brian prompted, snapping him out of his thoughts, and Dave turned his head to see that a new customer had entered the shop.

“Oh, yeah, how can I help you?” Dave asked with a smile.

The customer didn’t respond at first, staring at Dave with a devastated but awed expression like he’d seen a ghost. He was an incredibly attractive man, with curling shoulder-length hair and hippie clothes that matched the oversized orange sunglasses on his face and revealed a glint of a necklace that was tucked underneath his top.

“Dave?” the man breathed, as though shocked to see him, and Dave ran through his memory to place if he had seen him before. It wasn’t likely, he decided, since Dave never made friends with hippies and the man’s outlandish styling would have probably stuck in his memory.

“Yeah, that’s what it says on my nametag,” Dave joked, hoping to ease the tension.

For some reason, the man almost seemed near tears at the simple comment, and as he started to speak to thin air, Dave worried for the customer’s sanity. Something about the man’s energy was almost endearing to Dave, and he reasoned that it was probably because he pitied such a clearly grief-stricken person.

The man pulled himself together somewhat to ask for white paint to remodel his latrine, and it was almost a relief to finally hear that the man wanted paint; that he had a purpose for entering the store and wasn’t simply losing his mind. However, as Dave remembered that the last of the white paint had recently been sold, the giant’s attempt to buy pink paint resurfaced in his mind.

A sudden flash of boldness welled up in Dave, and he gave a quick glance to confirm that his uncle had retreated to the back of the store before offering, “We’re fresh out of white, but I do have Mamie pink on special, which always goes very nice in the latrine.” The man would probably turn down the ludicrous idea, but it was oddly satisfying to even give the offer, as though putting the option out there made it viable and respected. 

There was a slight pause that made Dave worry that he’d miscalculated the type of man he was serving, until the man breathed, “That sounds perfect,” with a bittersweet smile.

As Dave prepared the paint, he couldn’t help but feel triumphant at the little rebellion with colors. Dave certainly respected his uncle, but this slight felt necessary, and it eased the outrage in the back of his mind, replacing it with a swell of giddiness. 

There was absolutely nothing wrong with a man buying pink paint, even though in this case, Dave was almost certain that there was no wife waiting at home. 

Through his happiness, Dave noticed that the man seemed slightly more distant, as though his mind had slipped to another place. His eyes were glazed over, and his lip trembled like he was legitimately on the verge of tears. Ignoring a strange urge to comfort him or ask what was wrong, Dave put down the paint on the counter. “All set.”

As the man thanked him and reached to grab the cans of pink paint, his shirt shifted, and Dave realized with dawning horror that the chain around the man’s neck was not in fact a necklace, like he’d first assumed, but army dog tags. 

They seemed out of place on him, clinking ominously as the man leaned forward. The realization that the delicate man had been to war sent shivers down the back of Dave’s spine, as though he was viewing his own future. 

He considered saying something, asking the man if it was all worth it, but as he opened his mouth the phone abruptly started ringing, and the moment was broken. 

Brian walked over to answer the call, sending the customer a judgmental glare as he did, so Dave simply watched in silence as the veteran took his paint and glumly walked out of the store.

…

A few days and a whirlwind of events later, Dave found himself in a situation that he never would have expected: walking to a peacenik cult leader’s house to apologize for punching him, days before he was going to ship out to the marines.

He grimaced. It sounded worse when it was vocalized.

But Dave felt that he had no choice. Physical violence was definitely not something he was prone to, and not representative of the kind of person he wanted to be, especially when it was entirely unprovoked. 

His uncle had clearly thought that the man was a threat to society, and in the moment, Dave hadn’t been able to stop himself from bowing under the expectations and following orders. The guilt had hit almost immediately afterwards.

The worst part about it all was, not only had the man only bought pink paint at Dave’s suggestion, but the claims he’d made about the war were things Dave had desperately wanted to believe and agree with. Dave wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, but the hippie had somehow managed to vocalize problems with the war that matched entirely with the worries Dave had been harboring for the past few months. 

Sure, to his uncle or an outsider, Dave might have looked like the victor of the situation, but he’d really been a coward and a monster for trying to silence a bold veteran who was right anyway. 

So Dave felt that he had a duty to apologize, and a part of him hoped to be able to hear the man out (even though it was already too late for him to avoid fighting, since he’d finally caved to Brian’s insisting).

Of course, Uncle Brian didn’t know that Dave was actively seeking out the hippie, and it was definitely going to stay that way. It had entirely been luck that Dave had found the flyer taped to the front of the hardware store before his uncle had seen it, and that he’d taken a moment to look at the picture of the cult leader on the front. 

It was as though everything had fallen perfectly into place.

Apparently the man was called Klaus, and he was a self-proclaimed prophet who led a quasi-religious group aptly named Destiny’s Children. Dave struggled to reconcile the image of a soft-spoken, grieving customer who liked pink and didn’t like the war with a master manipulator who had apparently chosen a career where he utilized his skills to (as the flyer claimed), “Take the pain, take the pleasure, I’m the master of both.”

Somehow, not even that disjunction had been enough to deter Dave from trying to seek Klaus out, and a thrill had gone through him when he found a Dallas address printed on the back of the flyer.

And here Dave was, standing in front of a ridiculously huge mansion and trying to will his hands to stop shaking. 

This wasn’t a big deal. All Dave had to do was enter, apologize, let Klaus say whatever he wanted about the war, and leave. Klaus didn’t even need to know that Dave had enlisted already. Dave could appease him, and be on his way.

(Except, in the diner, it hadn’t just been about the war...there had been more, hadn’t there? Klaus had said that he cared about Dave, that he loved Dave, and what was that about? Why would he say that? Did Klaus really—)

Apologize, listen, and get out.

Dave rang the doorbell.

The door opened, and Dave smiled weakly at a girl with glasses wearing all blue who definitely was not the person he had expected to see.

“Hi, I’m looking for Klaus?” he forced himself to say, ignoring the urge to leave while he still could.

She smiled kindly back at him, briefly reaching up a hand to touch her earlobe. “The prophet is an incredibly busy man, but if you’d like to join Destiny’s Children, I can show you—”

“I punched him,” Dave blurted, unable to stop himself. “The other day. And I really need to apologize.”

The girl stared at him in shock. “You _punched_ the prophet?”

Dave felt heat rise in his cheeks. “It was an accident. I just need to talk to him.”

She started to laugh. “You somehow _accidentally punched_ our divine messiah and leader of the misfits, the fortitudinous shaman himself? How did he respond? At the very least, I’m sure he utilized the energy of the universe to have you removed from the area.”

An image rose up in the back of Dave’s mind of Klaus blinking up at him in shock, unshed tears in his wide eyes and betrayal painted over his features, taking a brief, shaky moment to get his bearings before rushing out of the restaurant with his head down. 

He wished that the girl was right. Anger or retaliation in the diner would have been the expected response, deserved and just and predictable. Even a cruel, dismissive insult would have been a preferable reaction, because at least then Dave wouldn’t have been left feeling so rotten inside. 

Seeing Klaus so hurt and betrayed had struck something deep within Dave, leaving him with the pervasive feeling that everything in the universe had gone absolutely, undeniably wrong.

“I just need to apologize,” was all Dave managed to get out. “Please.”

He was going to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this household we don't support incest, but himbo Luther is an absolute icon
> 
> Ben's up next, but don't worry, Dave's story isn't finished!


	3. Hurts Even Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben learns how to be a good brother

Ben was dead.

Ben had been dead for a long time.

Ben had lost control seventeen years ago. 

He’d known it was coming. The Horror had been building up strength within him, angry and writhing, and every time Ben had released them to wreak destruction, he’d wondered briefly if it was finally the day when they would refuse to slide back within his stomach. It had only been a matter of time before they’d torn him apart.

Ben knew his lack of ability to contain the creatures was the direct result of conforming to Reginald’s training and missions all those years; for feeding the monsters’ bloodlust and never learning how to soothe them. If he’d been a little more rebellious, a little more in charge of his own powers, he wouldn’t have lost control.

So in the end, it was complete chance that Ben had happened to argue with Klaus on the day he died, simply a tragic coincidence. There was absolutely nothing Klaus could have said or done that day to save Ben from himself. Dying horribly was his own fault.

But then he found out pretty quickly that Klaus blamed himself. And Ben decided to not tell him otherwise.

In death, Ben had come to the conclusion that he might as well make Klaus’ behavior his responsibility if he was going to stick around as a ghost, and it didn’t take long to come to the conclusion that outspokenness was the only power he could really wield. 

Ben never directly brought up his own death (even in his removed state, he didn’t like to think about it), but he learned how to subtly insinuate that Klaus could have made a difference, manipulating his brother into marginally better behavior.

It wasn’t that he necessarily wanted his brother to spiral out of control with guilt; in fact, that was the exact opposite of what Ben had originally intended. But Ben decided that it was worth it, and only fair, to give him some influence over the relationship, so he sat back as Klaus punished himself and figured that things would eventually work out.

Something about dying had placed a film between Ben and the world around him, making not only physical sensations much more distant, but emotions. So sure, maybe Ben’s tactics were below the belt, but Ben didn’t mind a little cruelty. 

It would be good for his brother.

Even when Klaus had been tied up and tortured, reliving his childhood trauma in a motel closet, Ben refused to allow him to think only of himself. At least Klaus was alive, and sober, too, even if it was involuntary.

And it had all helped. Somewhat.

Over the years, Klaus had shied away from stronger drugs and worse life choices when Ben coerced him, and though he’d never even sort of resolved his trauma or drug addiction, he had tried at Ben’s coaxing. 

Ben faintly recognized that whenever Klaus threw himself deeper into drugs, he would desperately attempt to at least keep his hairstyle serious to honor Ben’s death, and though it didn’t do anything, Ben appreciated the effort. He took the gesture to mean that while Klaus would never care about anyone enough to go sober, at least he loved Ben enough to try to improve himself in Ben’s name.

And besides being listened to, all Ben wanted was for Klaus to get better.

But then Klaus had time traveled to Vietnam without him, apparently, and had fallen in love, apparently, and had lost his love, apparently, and was now completely sober. Apparently.

Seventeen years of Ben trying to convince Klaus to stop throwing his life away; seventeen years of Ben falsely accusing Klaus of causing his death, and it had taken only the interest of some army man to finally change Klaus’ behavior.

Ben had to admit, it stung. 

His tragic death somehow hadn’t been enough to convince Klaus to do anything differently, so what did it mean that Dave’s death had? Did Klaus care about Dave more than his own brother? What made Dave so important?

Ben wouldn’t call himself a malevolent spirit, but sitting in the backseat watching Klaus ignore him while pining after a random person made him unreasonably angry.

Never before had Ben considered that he might not always be Klaus’ number one. And since he was dead, meaning his relationship with Klaus was the only human connection he could ever have, the realization that Klaus might stop caring about him was worrying.

Accustomed to having a fair amount of control with his guilting techniques, Ben was noticing that more and more, Klaus was starting to talk back, to argue, and his newfound sobriety meant that he was capable of analyzing situations himself and making his own choices, rather than blearily agreeing with what he was told.

And to make things worse, they were back in the 1960s, conveniently in a time when the wonderful, fabulous, perfect Dave was alive again, and even situated in the same town. And Ben, still dead, was forced to watch Klaus disregard his requests in favor of stalking someone who didn’t even know who Klaus was!

When Dave punched Klaus, it was a shocking but necessary wake-up call for Klaus to redirect his interests. Bickering together in the liquor store immediately afterward had felt like old times, and Ben had to admit he almost preferred Klaus falling off the wagon again to him chasing around his true love.

But here Dave was, hovering awkwardly in the doorway to Klaus’ room with Jill at his side (Jill, who didn’t even know Ben existed, and maybe never would), and hoping to talk to Klaus.

Ben didn’t want Dave to redeem himself. Ben wanted to try to possess Klaus again. The selfishness of the thought immediately struck Ben, but his desire to interact with the world as though he were alive was more powerful than his distant awareness that he was being selfish.

Refusing to listen in on Klaus and Dave’s loving conversation, Ben chose instead to follow Jill, shadowing her as she walked over to the gardens. As Jill stopped to smell some of the flowers, Ben pretended to do the same, imagining that he could breathe in their scent and yearning to talk to her.

Never before had Ben wished so intensely that he could have averted his death.

Realizing that he could at least interact with the objects around him, Ben carefully plucked a flower and tossed the petals up in front of Jill, making it seem as though they’d been swept up by a nonexistent gust of wind.

Jill watched in awe, smiling to herself softly. “There is certainly some kind of magic at work here,” she breathed, the sun shining on her face, “unlike anywhere else in the world.”

“I wish I could show you more,” Ben replied, standing in front of her but aching at their distance.

For a moment, it seemed that Jill had heard him, and she turned her sunny gaze directly to where Ben stood. Then her smile faltered and it became clear her eyes were tracking something behind Ben, and he turned around to see that Dave was striding towards them with an expression as sad and confused as though he’d just been told he was about to die.

Ben’s frustration immediately returned in full force. He couldn’t even share a moment of peace with Jill without it being taken away by the only person Klaus apparently cared about.

“Oh, you’re the girl who helped me earlier!” Dave exclaimed as he neared, hastily wiping his red eyes.

“It’s Jill,” Jill replied brightly.

“Nice to formally meet you. I’m Dave.” Dave tried to smile but he was clearly still upset about whatever he and Klaus had discussed.

“And I’m Ben,” Ben snarked, unheard. “I see Klaus ruined his chance with you. Wonder what creepy thing he said this time.”

“Would you mind showing me in the direction of the road?” Dave asked over Ben. “I’m not sure I remember the way out of here, and I really need to get going.”

“Of course,” Jill exclaimed, with a touch of concern on her face, “I remember, your reason for coming was not to stay, but to apologize. You don’t have to tell me, but did the prophet decide to hurt you in retaliation?”

“Yeah,” Dave said in a thick voice, turning his head away. “Yeah, he hurt me.”

Ben walked away.

…

“I shouldn’t have possessed you for so long,” Ben admitted a day later as he and Klaus were walking (or in Klaus’ case, stumbling) over to Allison’s house.

Klaus scoffed, refusing to look at him. “I thought you said that you ‘regret nothing.’”

Even though he’d expected Klaus to point out his drastic shift in mood, Ben found himself at a loss. He didn’t entirely know what was driving his spur of the moment apology. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that being in Klaus’ body had invigorated his emotional intensity, and though he’d initially felt satisfied with the possession, the shame and regret were starting to bubble up.

“Stop walking, Klaus. Let me explain,” Ben commanded, stepping in front of Klaus and expecting his brother to simply walk through him.

He was surprised when Klaus acquiesced, halting in place on the sidewalk and raising an eyebrow weakly. “I don’t want to hear anything _you_ have to say,” Klaus mumbled, pointing a finger in Ben’s direction. “For all I know, you’ll try to take another ride in _my_ body, and I’m trying to find Allison, not head back to have sex in the gardens with your little fling.”

Ben wished he could retaliate, but when he thought about it, Klaus was right. 

Things had come into perspective while Ben was possessing Klaus, and he was starting to entertain the idea that he’d been too harsh on his brother all the years they’d been together. 

Being in Klaus’ body definitely hadn’t been anything like being in his own when he’d been alive. The sensations of the world were there, stimuli bombarding his senses, but his perspective was altered by his perception of Klaus’ consciousness, which was still in the body with him, pressing upon Ben with its emotional presence. It was shocking how much guilt and sadness Klaus felt at any given time.

He wanted to blame Klaus and the possession for leaving Ben with some of his brother’s guilt-ridden emotions, but Ben had to admit that that was not the case. It was looking much more likely that experiencing emotions with the intensity of a living being had refreshed Ben’s memory of what it was like to feel things.

And Ben had a lot to feel when he examined his past treatment of Klaus.

It was becoming clear to Ben not only how cruel his own actions had been, but how deeply Klaus cared about both him and Dave. There was no need for competition, and Ben’s jealousy had really only succeeded in driving Klaus further away from him.

Klaus was truly hurting inside, and instead of comforting him, Ben had made it his goal to guilt Klaus even further. No wonder his brother hadn’t wanted to tell his siblings that Ben was there. 

“I need to apologize,” Ben forced himself to say as Klaus blinked at him.

“Oh, really?” Klaus asked with a touch of sarcasm, crossing his arms. “And what would you be apologizing for? Do tell.”

Ben took a deep breath despite the fact that his lungs had no need to take in air. “Everything.”

The answer clearly caught Klaus by surprise, and his face morphed into a vulnerable shock that was quickly covered with a smile. “Consider yourself forgiven! Just keep your little ghosty self from taking me over again like a demented puppet master, and everything will be peachy! Speaking of peaches, did I ever tell you about—”

“I mean it, Klaus,” Ben interrupted, wondering why he’d never been concerned about the way his brother was so fearful of the emotional vulnerability that came with taking things seriously. “I’ve been horrible to you. And not just with the possession. I mean all the time.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I don’t blame you,” Klaus was quick to say, carefully stepping around Ben as he started walking forward again. “It must be hard, being, y’know, dead and all.”

Ben grimaced as he watched his brother retreat, unsure why he was so adamant to make things right with Klaus, who clearly didn’t even want to be having the conversation. It felt almost as though this was the only chance they would get to really talk, which was ridiculous, since Ben wasn’t planning to go to the light anytime soon.

Either way, he decided that he had to plow on. “It’s not excusable,” Ben called, and Klaus halted in place on the sidewalk, facing away from his brother. “All these years, I used the circumstances of my death as a way to control you. But you know what, Klaus? It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

“Don’t,” Klaus said quietly with his back to Ben and his body unnaturally stilled. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Ben resisted the urge to walk up to him. Klaus was like a stray cat when it came to vulnerability, easily spooked, and Ben knew that even though Klaus wasn’t facing him, he had a captive audience. 

“I do mean it,” Ben insisted. “And possessing you made me realize how much damage I was doing by making you blame yourself. It was never your fault.” He paused, before continuing in a softer voice. “Dave wasn’t your fault, either.”

“How can you say that?” Klaus asked, shoulders curling inwards, still refusing to look at Ben. “He wouldn’t have even enlisted yet if it wasn’t for me! You don’t have to lie just because you’re guilty about the possession.” His voice cracked, but he continued with the attempt at acting carefree. “I told you already, we’re cool.” 

“Stop deflecting,” Ben said, wishing he’d been there for their conversation so that he could understand what had been said to hurt both Dave and Klaus so deeply. “Dave was going to die initially, but you’ve already changed the future by interacting with him. Maybe things will turn out differently, and this will be a timeline where he lives.”

At that, Klaus finally turned around slowly to face Ben, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “You really think so?” he croaked, reaching up shakily to clasp Dave’s dog tags.

Ben thought back to Dave’s brokenhearted expression in the garden. “Yeah, I really think so.”

Klaus looked down, frowning, and Ben was about to continue trying to convince him until he noticed that his brother was focusing on his hands, which were glowing blue, flickering at first and then shining steadily.

“Thank you, Ben,” Klaus choked out, right before launching himself at Ben with his arms open.

Slightly startled, Ben returned the hug, tightening his grip as he felt Klaus’ shoulders begin to shake.

“I’m sorry, Klaus, I’m so sorry,” Ben found himself whispering, feeling near tears himself. “It will get better.”

Klaus nodded shakily, and they stayed that way for a while, with Ben clutching his brother tightly in his arms.

He didn’t understand why it felt like a goodbye.

…

Ben was drifting towards the light, and he could feel, deep within him, that it was all over.

He wasn’t ready to move on, and he never would truly be ready, and he knew he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ben didn’t mind that his time was up, if it meant he could save his sister and the world. 

It was time to let go.

Watching over Klaus had been a responsibility of Ben’s for so long that he almost couldn’t imagine anything else, but they’d been together for a while following his death, about as long as Ben had been alive. But it was all extra; he’d been staying around on borrowed time, knowing at the back of his mind that he’d eventually have to go to the light and wondering when the time would come. 

It wasn’t often that ghosts put off ascension for any reason other than pure malice and revenge.

It had been complete luck that Ben had a brother who could see him after death; luck that had allowed Ben to watch over Klaus like a nagging guardian angel, trying in his own way to give his brother help and direction.

But Ben knew he wasn’t needed anymore. 

As much as Klaus liked to pretend otherwise, he’d matured greatly over the past few years, taking the reigns of his own life and finding his own way. It was no longer Ben’s coercion that made Klaus capable of making positive decisions. 

Klaus didn’t need him anymore. Klaus was going to be okay.

Ben’s only regret was that he would never truly connect with any of his other siblings. He could understand why Klaus had kept him from talking to the others, but it had still hurt to listen to them reunite and bond while he was unseen and disregarded. 

It was probably the same way Klaus had felt when Dave hadn’t recognized him, but at least the two of them had been able to try to rekindle the relationship.

And honestly, not that Ben wanted to hold onto his irritation with Dave, that was the one big difference between the two of them.

Dave had died in the original timeline, which was very sudden and traumatic for both him and Klaus, and sure, Ben could understand that. But that timeline was history, forgotten, erased, and Dave was alive and making new decisions, so how much was there to really be sad about now?

The most that had been lost were Dave’s memories, which, while heartbreaking, was nothing compared to the man’s entire life.

Meanwhile, Ben had traveled back in time with Klaus, into the new timeline, ready for a new start, and he was Still. Dead. 

Maybe dying was just Ben’s fate. Klaus had told him about the existence of god, so it could be her decision to keep him stuck as a ghost. More likely, though, was that as lucky as Ben had been in being related to Klaus, he had been entirely unlucky in absolutely everything else. 

Five had traveled back in time to save the family from the apocalypse, but then he’d landed during Reginald’s funeral—early enough to save everyone but Ben. And then when Five had traveled them all to the past, it was too early for Ben to have even been born, much less for his life to be saved. 

Ben understood that there was nothing he could do to spontaneously live again, but it would have been nice if any of his siblings had at least tried to save him.

He shook off a wave of hurt. There was no use holding onto negative emotions, not with where he was headed.

Ben gazed into the bright light in the distance, which was steadily growing nearer and nearer. The feel of Vanya’s arms around him had long since faded away, and he knew he was facing this journey alone.

After so many years linked with Klaus, the independence was slightly thrilling. 

And even though Ben was irrevocably dead, that was a concept he now slowly found he could accept.

People like Dave deserved a chance to live again, but maybe it wasn’t for everyone. Anyway, death wasn’t really the end of everything, just the end of something. 

There would never be a timeline where Ben survived, but it was okay.

It was probably better that way.

The siblings would never have to readdress their grief over Ben’s death, Klaus would never have to meet a stranger with Ben’s face but a different history and personality, and Reginald would never have control over Ben ever again.

Because Ben was, and forever would be, dead.

Suddenly, his surroundings grew blinding, and as Ben entered the light, a brief image of something strangely ominous flashed through his mind.

It was a sparrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If sparrow Ben doesn't grow to love and support Klaus next season, I will riot
> 
> I'm on tumblr @nathanbellamy if you want to talk :)

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out nothing like part one lmao
> 
> next chapter is where Dave comes in!


End file.
